Rixie Godwright
by CommunistCrab
Summary: A morning in the life of Rixie Godwright.


They say that gems hide in treasure chests defended in well constructed fortresses or atop the high ends of towers adorned with traps and deadly mischief, maybe they are right. Nevertheless, our stalwart hero stared down at the gates of this bastion, awaiting the moment to delve deep into this fitful dungeon and brave the cold with his warm honesty and hotheaded attitude. As soon as he saw the gate on the horizon, his influence stretched across the land, magic of creation and the warmth of life reaching through the cracks in this gate made of fabric. One of these packets of light landing atop a pale plain of existence. The land opened up to a white lake, green shattered islands atop the two patches of water. Awakened from the slumber of ages past, the goddess pushed aside the titanic blanket, revealing a body sculpted by artists themselves, an enchanting testimony to the beauty of this world held back only by a pair of white lace lingerie. The pillows that inspired so many poems parted to reveal extruding fangs, tiny in size but sharp as the razor of a barber, these held atop by a fence of white teeth, almost breaking the light's path. Extending from the ruin of a red field were two pointed ears, one of them twitching as if attempting to speak to the other, a fellow joining the party as a tail swung aloft from behind her back, starting from the terminal point of her lower back.

"Nyaa!"being the sound that began her quest, better said a routine that entered the system much like an addicting drug and sapped all the fun in such times. The bathroom fell prey to her travels, the bed wrangled red haystack atop her head taken down to its limits of velvet locks by a bearded fellow of plastic, the teeth's gleaming personality kept in place by a brush and its allies. Striding across the hallway, our heroine made her way in a mythical march to the kitchen, gathering the equipment required for a healthy breakfast and a reboot to her system, the coffee tapping at its metallic prison and screaming out, being released into a ceramic cell. Sitting down, Rixie Godwight, our goddess as stated by the mug that now held her coffee lifted the ceramic creation to her lips, pushing the tip of it slightly against the battlefield of her rosy lips, the refreshing liquid rushing down her neck. Pushed back by forces a new, she leaned against the chair she sat upon, the left arm holding the mug's tail and the right one running down her exposed right thigh, threading milky pure plains as her mind trailed off to the contents of an image seated atop a counter. Drifting down the lane of memories, the contact with reality was broken, much like a relationship, with a strong punch, her eyes closing and opening once more in a fraction.

The scene changed from that of a monotone urban scene to that of a rainy afternoon, her gloved right hand holding aloft a mighty shield of fabric, sat atop a metallic pole leading to a plastic handle. Clenching it harder, she looked down at the younger figure, a statuette made in her image but with less material, tugging at her left arm and moving closer. Instead of having the calming environment stabilize, she was witness to the line breaking apart, the continuous stream of information ripped to shreds by tearing images and sounds. A loud, ear shattering one breaking even this barrier as the street ran a river of crimson liquid through it, screams, yelps for help, all of them drowning the rain in their desperate screeching voices. Meanwhile, reality had the trembling fingers of Rixie grasp the mug's handle harder, a grip that could send a human to death. The coffee seemed restless as its own reality was mildly shaken, pressed by earthquakes caused by its mistress. Taking back into the view of our deity Rixie, images flashed of a body carried in the frail and torn arms of the girl, clothing now hanging in rags and leaving a trail of blood behind, the only words now uttered were not said in the same voice, being "You're too late…", the movie continuing, much like an art gallery, her steps leaving behind cold memories as she stared at photographs, entering each to view its story.

Finding herself amongst others in a hallway, she seemed to be on her way, passing by a rather tall, yet slender shadow, his face as well as his appearance appearing to shudder and shift as she kept trying to focus on it. Passing by this ever changing figure, she'd hear "Hey Rixie…", her passage simply following its linear pattern as the silhouette lowered its hand and its head, replying "Of course…" as it walked away from her, a punch to the head and a headache slithering our heroine into a new environment. The scent of mint and medicine, a silence which could overcome that of a cemetery at night befalling the chamber as she looked down upon a bed, the two extending hands clenching on the metal rebar of the bed, tears flooding down as the same figurine appeared behind her, its hand lifting to befall the woman's shoulder. It was however shuddered off, the figurine falling down to its knees as she left and covering its face, the wall serving as a gravestone at this shadow's head. This reel did not stop however, a montage of blood stained images pushing Rixie into a breathing fit, her eyes opening to bruised arms and a gun, the corpse of what she identified as only the antagonist on the ground, bars closing around her with red and blue colors, the same tears now shed behind a concrete shelter.

The same figure ripped the bars aside, offering a hand of help, this time not refused and instead embraced, a hug bringing her back to reality. A hug in her mind and a kiss in reality, a black haired tall and fair maiden donning almost the same lingerie departing from the warm touch of Rixie's lips and going off to lean against a wall, sparking a smile as the words "I'll always be there for you dear, I'm sure your sister's there too, wherever she may be…", this ending the chapter as Rixie got up, the mug finally resting as it was placed inside the metal sink, our barely clothed goddess stepping forth and embracing her savior in another hug, this hug closing this chapter in her life.


End file.
